YN x George Weasley

21

"What the fuck, Hermione!" You sat up as George got off of you, your arms across your chest.

You were far from the type of person that blushes at the mention of sex and always thought that you could laugh it off if somebody walked in on you doing it. Now, you did not feel like 'laughing it off'.

Hermione at least had a bit of decency to register your undressed, ruffled, and breathless condition to redden. Still, she said, "I have to talk to you."

This bitch.

George said, "Um, Hermione, we were kinda in the middle of something," as he leaned against the bed post, pulling the covers up over his boxer-covered crotch.

"This is more important than-" she paused and said quieter, "sex."

"Is it though?" You asked. This time George blushed a little and that made you feel a bit proud.

You hadn't wanted things to be awkward with him, that was what you had been dreading  about this meeting. Then that was completely thrown out of the window in place of sex and you desperately wanted to get back to it.

Hermione, however, was being a major cock block.

"Yes, it is." Hermione crossed her arms and made a face like a defiant child.

You groaned and rubbed a hand across your face. You really didn't want to go but the moment with George was over...sort of. "Fine, fine, I'm coming. Not in the way I wanted to but coming nontheless."

You stood, not bothering to cover up. "Sorry, George," you whispered as you put a hand on the side of his face.

He smiled playfully. "We'll just have to finish this later."

You kissed him. Long, hard, and with enough tongue to make Hermione shuffle her feet uncomfortably.

"This better be a bloody important talk."
You pulled on your clothes and left the dorm with Hermione, more sexually frustrated then when you entered.

Hermione locked the door to your dorm as you sat on the edge of your bed. You were so upset about having to leave George that you hadn't pondered what Hermione wanted to talk to you about.

Now you were internally freaking out. If Hermione had found out your secret you were almost completely sure she would be the last person to spread it.

On the other hand, if she had found it out, it meant she went looking. That she was spying. Few things made you madder than a fake friend.

"So," you said, in the lightest tone you could muster. "Has Harry figured out what the next task is?"

"Yes, Diggory helped him with it in the bath."

"What?"

Hermione looked at you dead on, arms crossed and expression stormy. "But you know that's not what I want to talk about."

"I do?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and flung open the curtains to her bed, which she had been oddly keeping closed the past couple weeks.

She pulled out a chalkboard covered with pictured, writing, tacks, and red string. What the hell is that for?

It takes you a second to realize most of the pictures are you. You felt your blood run cold then boil with rage as Hermione started to explain.

"I have come to the conclusion," she said slowly," based on evidence and a reliable informant, that you are not Y/n Johnson but Y/n Black."

You probably could've denied it, told her she was being ridiculous and laugjed it off, but you didn't. She wanted the real you? She was gonna get it.

"Technically," you said, tilting your head, "both are correct. I am Y/n Johnson, just not by birth."

"You," Hermione took a deep breath, "are the daughter of murderers."

You scoffed. "Why does everyone keep saying that? My parents are dead and I have no memory of them. I an no one's daughter."

"You were raised by the Malfoys! Deatheaters!"

"Only for a few years," you said, shrugging.

Hermione was shaking and it was making you mad. Who was she to be angry at you? It was her own fault that you were having this conversation. That she had found out.

"And, frankly, I don't see what your bloody problem is. You are friendly enough with Sirius and his mom was a sadist."

"That is a compeltely different situation!"

"How?" You yelled. "Because he's Harry's godfather? I'm Sirius's niece! I'm also in Gryffindor, just like he was. I have been nothing but nice to you while you have been sneaking around my back digging up my family history. That's not what friends do!"

"That's what you are focusing on? Puh-lease. That is hardly relevant. You lied-"

"No, Hermione," you walked toward her and she flinched when you stabbed your finger against her chest. "I never lied. Not about that. I am a Johnson. You lied. You lied about being my friend and that is a really shitty thing to do."

Then you can't help it. You started laughing. Hermione's eyes grew wide in fear as you laugh and laugh and laugh.

You made for the door but before you left you said, "Hermione, I doubt I have to tell you this but if you tell anybody I will make your life hell."

You were not going back to your dorm that night, that much was for sure. You couldn't very well stay with George. He only wanted casual and spending the night without fucking was not casual.

In the end you settled on a sofa in the common room, in front of a cozy fireplace. Before you dozed off, a house elf ran up to you.

"Miss Y/n?" He asked.

"Yeah, that's me." You sat up and looked at the elf.

"These are from Mr. Weasley." He handed you a box of chocolate truffles and scurried away.

You opened the heart shaped box, smiling. He must want to resume the evening's meeting very soon.

You take your time choosing a chocolate, dark chocolate with sea salt caramal and pop it into your mouth. Then, you fall asleep.